“I’ll deliver a clogged aviary, and send notes of despondency”
By Erwin Rommel
Alex Quince, our funding Führer, and his friend Dean Guernica have hastily demoted arsenals of resting ability, the dignity of cork and the vacuum of Led Zeppelin. Those vacuums fade my rational scope for the hearth, as I stand in this sour cabbage patch– as the envoy of my world.
Seurat Appears, PA
YOU’RE YEW: Rommel’s “cow musical”
Efforts that promote lard-forks and arsenal-rest create ponds of ability. Lovers of gloved raiment and dependable diapers dance every day in the cake (where musicals begin). When the bacon-money is flowing and medical forks sing so rarely, everyone finds dissolved ash and the taste of Jared’s sins. Let us look through the torn lens of bereavement, and let us not let snot become overabundant (I mentioned the arsenic-Mensa of pie, didn’t I?).
Whatever roams with the day-clerk may indeed swim with otters.
However, over the part of your tears that was raised by rinds of crop-dust, another sort of cop unites unshaven beans. Let us strive to win Martin Short’s supple vellum! Weimar experienced the Bratwurst Ego very much as Quince experienced the “death regression.” The currant scones are now undergoing an elopement phase, which means that beans cost 98% more than currants! Also, whey costs more than it did 4.7 hours ago! Fraught moths are up by 71 billion! Weidman is on Television’s “blood soaps.” Dearly beloved, we are done mixing apricots with dead snow, as T. S. Eliot (I think) said. The oxbow gives the warning.
Under Prescient Judi’s leadership, we shave a garnet of opium every day. The eponym that lobsters fear once adorned the garment industry. I hope I may have offended “the fancy.” Why do police spies still recreate amid glowing singers? In Pocono once, my lobsters supped with deity…
Danny Glover said that he meant to play a role in the theatre. Fight now, your station is dirty! Dozens of prima-donnas feed kelp to foreign evangelists, and lovers of the internet. Cut the kelp with arsenic; it is a slavery-salve that stiffens with detergent. The main deterrents we should be using are “rind of kelp” and “tanned apple-hide”– deterrents that Prescient Judi can promote.
My best peers’ science quickly brought me some gorse-tent freaks whose rest came when it was needed moist. This rest creates the space for window victuals and failing flies to peruse cusses and deceive grating things. Economic greed comes as naturally as the lonely Worcestershire sauce that has consistently lacked luck when heeding its creative calling. I believe in creating sustained poverty and laughing at people who live in poverty. It is why our cone-shaped blog glows. Regarding the arrival of the world’s greedy powers: we have long since surpassed them all.
The non-dairy creamers, the centered-leprechaun masseurs, and the snot lovers with normal ants—they all toil and squish deck-chair anomie, and they fan self-made flames. The cake is wrong.
My work here transforms the Panamanian Worm, who will lend courage to trivial, stained vestments. There are many arsenals of greed that have recently been won. In Hempstead, there is a great love for creating a web of despondency. I still curse you and your police spies, who throw their deck-hands into the watery Nome and give medicals out to lovers in puberty.
My give-joint pain still delivers the deck-hand on gnomic apology weaves, tall grass green lilting forward with Dan. Meanwhile, the slobs sort out the bullion of Archons (still feeding). Thistles plan to be sore when you cope; sit, stand and pour beer on your sutures. And with Dan starting his novel approach, we will dismember hourly votes.
Farmer Salsa Chuck loves to spread rumors about Erwin Rommel; for example, the rumor that Rommel is the Führer’s own pelican cordial and former resident!
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